21. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Beau
After two weeks of dropping Molly at Mountain Rescue every morning, and Jamie's still giving me that look.
Not the casual nod most people get. Not even the friendly wave.
It's the look .
The one that says he's got something to say and he's waiting for me to be ready to hear it.
Every day, it gets a little more intense. A little more insistent. Like he's physically restraining himself from grabbing my arm and dragging me inside himself.
But I think I've gotten good at avoiding it.
Drop off in the parking lot, quick kiss goodbye, and I'm out of there before he can corner me with whatever speech he's been rehearsing for years.
Instead, I've been channeling all that nervous energy into my workshop.
The past two weeks might just be the most productive I've had since moving to Stone River Mountain. Aside from building the cabins around town, of course.
But I've just completed a custom jewelry box for Betty, carved from that piece of cherry wood I've been saving.
Knocked up a built-in bookshelf for the library that Viv's been dreaming about for months, and finished a spice rack for Linda's kitchen that she'll probably brag about to her customers more than she'll actually use the damn thing.
I'm keeping busy. Staying useful. Building things instead of tearing myself apart.
But today's different. Today I've got two surprises for Molly.
First, though, there's a special treehouse that's also been finished this week and is ready to unveil by a very happy six-year-old.
I watch from the base of the oak tree as Maisie arranges her teddy bear guests around the most elaborate tea party setup I've ever seen.
She's got actual china—tiny cups and saucers that Sienna must have found in some antique shop—and fairy cakes arranged on doilies like she's hosting the Queen of England.
"Mr. Buttons has to sit next to Lady Fluffington because they're best friends, but not too close because Lady Fluffington gets jealous if Mr. Buttons talks to Princess Sparkles too much."
"That makes perfect sense," David says with complete seriousness, securing the last of the rope ladder rungs we installed this morning. "Can't have drama at a tea party."
"Exactly!" Maisie beams at him like he's just demonstrated advanced understanding of diplomatic protocol.
David catches my eye and grins.
Working with him these past few days has been... good. Easy.
The kind of partnership where you don't need to explain what you're thinking, just hand over the right tool and get back to work. He's got steady hands and an engineer's mind for problem-solving, plus he genuinely gives a shit about making his daughter's dreams come true.
"I think we did good," he says, stepping back to admire our completed handiwork.
He's not wrong. The treehouse is a masterpiece.
Three levels connected by rope bridges, a slide that curves around the trunk, and yes, a disco ball hanging in the main room because when a six-year-old asks for a disco ball, you give her a fucking disco ball.
Despite it taking way longer than I would have liked, the walls are painted in the rainbow colors Maisie demanded, and there's a pulley system for hauling up "treasure" and snacks.
It's everything a kid could want and more. The kind of magical childhood fort I would have killed for at her age. Riley would've claimed it, of course. Would've made it his own private kingdom where I wasn't allowed.
That was the pattern of my youth.
Anything nice, anything special, somehow became his. Dad would've called it "building character" to let Riley have it, and Mom would've smiled that tight smile that meant the conversation was over.
But a fort like this would've been my sanctuary. A place where military precision and perfect corners weren't required. Where I could've hidden the books Dad said were a waste of time. Where I could've just... breathed.
Instead, I had the shed behind our house. Cold in winter, hot in summer. But it was mine. My first solo build, actually.
"You two built me a castle!" Maisie shouts from the top platform, her voice echoing through the tree branches. "A real castle!"
"It's perfect," Sienna says, appearing beside us with her phone, snapping pictures just like her sister has been lately. "Absolutely perfect. She's going to remember this for the rest of her life."
Warmth spreads through my chest as I watch Maisie arrange her teddy bears in the tiny chairs we built. It's pure pride. The satisfaction of creating something purely joyful for another human being.
This is what family looks like. This is what I've been missing.
"Sorry I'm late!" Molly's voice cuts through the yard as she hurries toward us, still in her Mountain Rescue uniform. "We had a training exercise and it ran long."
Goddamn, my mouth goes dry as I turn on the spot and stare at the sight of her.
Two weeks of seeing her in those tactical cargo pants and that fitted uniform shirt, and I'm still not used to how fucking sexy she looks in work gear. The pants hug her ass in ways that make my hands itch to touch whenever she's nearby.
She's good at her job. Really good. And watching her confidence grow has been better than any high I've ever experienced.
" AUNT MOLLY !" Maisie shrieks from the treehouse. "Look! It's finished! Come see!"
Molly tilts her head back to look up at the elaborate structure, and her face transforms with wonder.
"Oh my God, Beau. This is what you've been working on all week?"
"Among other things, yes."
David winks at me and Molly is just shaking her head in amazement. She moves over and slides easily under my arm, swarming me with her incredibly addictive perfume.
"Maisie had very specific requirements," I say, fighting a smile as our tiny dictator begins explaining the finer points of teddy bear seating arrangements to anyone within earshot.
"Think our kids would be this bossy about their tea parties?" I ask casually, handing Molly a beer from the cooler David brought out.
"Our who said what now?!" The bottle slips in her hands, and she nearly drops it. "Our kids ?"
"Just saying," I shrug, like I haven't just dropped a bomb into our conversation. "Genetics are genetics. Your bossy. She's bossy. Seems to run in the family."
Her cheeks flush pink, and she stares at me like I've just suggested we colonize Mars. "I'm just going to ignore that insult because, Beau Callahan, did you just casually mention having children with me at a six-year-old's tea party ?"
"Maybe."
"We've been together for three weeks!"
"So?"
David coughs into his beer, clearly trying not to laugh. Sienna has gone very still, obviously listening to every word while pretending to photograph the treehouse.
"So?" Molly sputters. "So that's crazy person behavior!"
"Is it?" I step closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear. "Because I'm pretty sure I knew I wanted forever with you about five minutes after seeing you again."
Her breath catches, and those green eyes go wide and soft in a way that makes me want to kiss her until she can't remember why she thought three weeks was too soon for anything.
Because with Molly, it's more than three weeks. I've been in love with her since I was old enough to understand what that warm feeling in my chest was whenever I looked at her.
It just took me this long to be brave enough to reach for her instead of pushing her away.
Maisie's voice drifts down from the treehouse, where she's apparently started the formal tea service. "Lady Fluffington says the crumpets are divine!"
"I should document this," Molly laughs, pulling out her phone. "This is too adorable not to share."
She starts snapping photos—Maisie in her elaborate hostess role, the gorgeous treehouse setup, David and me standing beneath the tree looking proud.
"Oh God, Mol. Your followers are going to die over this," Sienna says, leaning over Molly's shoulder to see the screen. "A thousand people obsessing over your perfect mountain life."
I freeze on the spot, beer halfway to my lips. "Followers?"
"Yeah! Molly's Instagram has blown up since she moved here," Sienna explains cheerfully. "All those gorgeous photos of mountain life, the cabin, you. She's almost like a small-town influencer now."
Molly gives Sienna a playful shove and they laugh together, not sensing my sudden drop in mood.
Instagram. Followers. Photos of me, my cabin, our life… shared with a thousand strangers.
The beer in my hand suddenly tastes like ash. My lungs constrict and that familiar pressure builds behind my eyes. It's the same feeling I get when the nightmares come. When the memories hit.
I take a deliberate breath, forcing my expression to remain neutral.
I look at Molly, who's suddenly very interested in adjusting her camera settings. "You think you're an influencer ?"
"Oh Christ, no. Seriously, it's nothing major," Molly says quickly. "Sienna's being ridiculous. It's just some people who like the photos. Look—"
She turns her phone toward me, scrolling through a feed that makes my stomach clench.
There's photo after photo of our life together. The breakfast spread I made her first day. Close up of my cabin interior, the parts she adores the most.
She scrolls some more and there are pictures of me working on the treehouse, though at least you can't see my face.
But there's more.
The view from our bedroom window. The fresh snow. The view from the lookout.
It's the past three weeks of our life, documented and broadcast to strangers.
"Jesus, Molly. How many people are seeing this?"
"It's just pretty pictures, Beau. People love mountain life content." She's scrolling faster now, showing me scenic shots, food photos.
Fuck me. Maybe I should never have bought her that phone?
"See? Nothing personal."
"That's our kitchen," I point out. "Our bedroom view. That's me building this treehouse."
"But you can't see the address or anything identifying—"